Catalyst
by burninganchors
Summary: Catalyst: a person or thing that precipitates an event or change. That moment - the event. They - the people. Their love - the change.
1. Chapter 1

_I've been away for a while, the reasons why being far too numerous to list here, but I needed to add my own contribution to the post-100 fanfiction explosion. It was really such a fantastic episode; superbly written and well-performed, with an ending so emotionally moving that I, along with many others, was brought to tears. Even watching it six [or six million] times later, I still cry during those final moments. Some people are infused with a deep hatred over everything that happened, but it has taken its rightful place as my favorite episode. I'm certain that this is a turning point for B&B, where something finally happened, and that can only mean good things are coming our way._

_So please enjoy this 100th episode themed twoshot, the second chapter of which will hopefully be up tomorrow._

_And remember, Bones fans, don't lose hope - everything happens eventually._

* * *

Life always dealt certain cards. And it was all left up to chance, fate - whatever you wanted to call it - what cards you drew. The roll of the dice couldn't be determined until they came to rest upon the table, their dotted faces unchanging. And the way the slots rolled was utterly random, the pull of the lever that set off the selection having nothing to do with outcome.

So maybe fate had been kind to him in the past. Or maybe he'd only gambled on things he was certain to win. Because otherwise, you couldn't really be good at gambling.

He'd learned that tonight.

_"I'm the gambler."_

Sweets had told him that it was because he was the gambler that he would have to be the one to step up and break the stalemate. He had to be the one to take the chance. For once, stop treading so goddamn carefully around her, otherwise forever they'd be caught there. No more moves, no more bets to play; just not-dates at the diner and just guy hugs and just partners. He would take every part of her that she gave him, but would he have _forever_ continued to settle for second best, for "_just_" everything? Maybe. Maybe not. But there was no way to tell now. He'd taken his shot.

_"I believe in giving this a chance. Look, I wanna give this a shot."  
__"You mean us? No, the FBI won't let us work together as a couple - "  
__"Don't do that; that is no reason - "_

He'd believed in giving it a chance; actually giving it that shot. And to let her know that, he'd kissed her. He'd stepped forward and shown her just how much, his lips crashing into hers, as much to stop her from rationalizing her way out of it as to show her, _show her, _just for a moment, what it would be like. To convince her without words that a chance, and ideas like _faith _and _love _and _us _and _forever, _would be possible between them; they who had faced the world and weathered every single thing that life had thrown at them - together.

For a moment, it was true, it was tangible, and it was present in the brush of her fingers over his shoulders and the movement of her soft lips against his own.

And then that feeling was torn away from him as she'd pulled away, and though her taste still lingered on his tongue she'd stolen that from him, too, as her hands hitting him, pushing him away, became the only sensation he registered.

The beginnings of his rejection.

_"No, no!"  
__"Why, why?"_

She was right - he was obsessed with why. Why people do the things they do. And more than ever, he'd wanted to know why, in that perfect moment between them, she was resisting. Couldn't she see it, too? Didn't she understand that taking a risk was would be _so freaking worth it _if she'd just give it a chance? She'd given him an answer: Protection. From her. The very idea was insane, and the way her voice broke as she said it, the fact that her heart wasn't open like his, had convinced him there was more. More to the why she thought this couldn't work. But his mind was racing, his heart in overdrive, and he didn't refute her claims - when now he knew he could have, should have, and knew so much that every word out of her mouth wasn't true. He'd only begun to plead, an unwanted desperation creeping into his voice out of the weakness he felt at the thought that the chance he'd taken was one that she wouldn't.

_"You, you thought you were protecting me, but you're the one who needs protecting."  
__"Protecting, from what?"  
__"From me! I - I don't have your kind of open heart."_

He'd poured his heart out to her then, and there it was, all of it: he'd never had to explain what it was that he knew. They both knew. But only he understood from the beginning, and where they could take it now. How he could see it before them, right there, and though the image was fading fast, maybe if she would just trust that he was that guy, he was the one. One day they would have those fifty years behind them where he would look into the clear, innocent eyes that had been a part his dreams since that first meeting all those years ago, and remind her that it was him who knew, all along. Maybe, if she'd just...

_"Just give it a chance; that's all I'm asking."_

But no.

_"No, you said it yourself: the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome."  
"Then let's go for a different outcome here! Alright, let's just, hear me out, alright? You know when you talk to older couples, who, you know, have been in love for thirty, or forty, or fifty years, alright, it's always the guy who says, 'I knew.' I knew. Right from the beginning."  
__"Your evidence is anecdotal."_

She knew... she'd never once told him that she didn't, during the whole thing. The way her arm sought his as they walked off together into the cold, rainy world, told him that she knew.

_"Look, I'm that guy. Bones, I'm that guy, I know."_

But she didn't believe in gambling. Not what little they had now for a future so...breakable. Uncertain.

_"I...I am not a gambler. I'm a scientist. I can't change! I don't know how. I don't know how..."_

Didn't she know she was the biggest gamble of his life?

But he'd run out of things to say as he stared at her face. He could have said anything - how she'd already changed; years of his presence by her side, guiding her, teaching her, opening her mind and her soul to things she'd never acknowledged or felt possible; the very things that eventually gave her the open heart she insisted she didn't have. How even if she believed the nonsense she was spouting, she didn't need to change, not one bit, not for him. How she was so ridiculously perfect for him that he'd take her, just as she was, any day over any of the billions of people in the entire world. All he'd done, though, was stare, breathing heavily with mouth agape, at the one woman who had the ability to completely shatter his heart. His wild hopelessness was reflected back at him through eyes that were as filled with tears as his own. His pain, her pain, tracks of it marring her pale skin.

So it was in that moment that he'd believed her, and given up.

_"Please, don't look so sad."  
__"Alright, okay... You're right; you're right."_

He'd conceded, letting her slip away, and at last the hope he'd been carrying for six long years was extinguished, and the impact of it would have brought him to his knees had the concrete barrier not been there to support him. Six long years where he'd breathed her, dreamed of her, lived for her, and suddenly he was facing a life with no more purpose. _She'd_ been his only purpose. But now, all that was over.

He'd laid his cards on the table.

Little did he know she held the ace.

_"Can we still work together?"  
__"...Yeah."  
__"Thank you."  
__"But I gotta move on. You know, I gotta find someone who's, who's gonna love me...in thirty years, or forty, or fifty..."  
__"I know."_

And she still did, even after she'd spurned him, shunned him, left him as the only thing he had left; just another soul without its mate, another face condemned to eternity searching for its other half. And he'd had to do something to let her know that since she wasn't willing to take a chance _with_ him, she couldn't have that control _over_ him anymore. Sure, they could work together - he didn't think he should, could, _stop - _but he would be trying to move on, no matter how his heart ached at the very thought. He needed to, for his own sanity, and for hers as well. She knew that. She told him so. In such a broken, defeated way that he knew at last that the risk was taken, the gamble was made, and the game was over.

They walked away from that place when he had enough strength to stand. But unsupported, the weight of their conversation was heavy in his mind, crushing. Their sad, resigned smiles were evidence of that, and she felt it, too, bumping into him, gauging his reaction, before taking his arm in the silent reassurance that they both so desperately desired. Her head fell against his shoulder, an apology and a different weight entirely, and he couldn't help but fall against her as well. Their steps taken together, drawing strength from one another. And though he'd lost his gamble, and felt like he'd lost everything with it, her by his side was the one thing he had left - at least for now. And for a moment, they both forgot the things they'd said, and how tomorrow they'd be different people, still the same Booth and his Bones, but changed by a deep, unforgettable knowledge. No words were needed. They'd already said it all.

They let all that slip away into the warm, spring night, and he brought himself to forget the future -

because who knew where it was going?

- leave the past behind -

because what was done was done.

- and live in the now, where, even for just that moment, they were together.

Right where they belonged.

*

* * *

_tomorrow is Brennan's chapter :] see you all then!  
A/N: the site kept screwing with my formatting, and deleting about half my text, haha. So if something doesn't make sense or feels like it's been cut off, know that tomorrow I'll also be re-checking this chapter to see if fanfiction has sorted out all its issues._


	2. Chapter 2

_Whew, so finally, it's up! I'm sorry this took so long, but hey, at least it's not seven months, like certain stories, cough cough. ;] It took a little bit longer than expected, s__o please, enjoy, and let me know what you think._

* * *

Temperance Brennan was a scientist.

From an early age, her parents had filled her with the wonders of the world, opening her mind and fascinations to everything that existed and was possible, and even those things that were yet to be discovered. Her father, a science teacher himself, would sit her on his lap as he went over lesson plans, and she would stare with face pinched and eyes flitting back and forth as she tried to understand the scribbles on his papers. As she grew older, he'd nurtured her interest, and often allowed her to take part in some of his experiments and ideas; even encouraging it, in most instances. Science was cold fact and rational thinking, but it was also the exploring of the universe, and it satisfied her previously unquenchable thirst for knowledge with its many different faces. Her mother and father had continued to cultivate that love, until it was able to flourish without them.

So science was still there, even when they were not.

She'd been abandoned by them - people who spoke of love, who created a family, only to destroy it. Regretted decisions after horrible mistakes, they'd taken apart everything they'd made, leaving only the pieces behind in the form of a fifteen year old's broken heart. Their love, taken, snatched from her. Almost in spite, she clung to science - it was the one thing she had left, and she'd be damned if they were going to take that from her, too. Throwing herself into her studies, she'd survived: survived the rest of high school, survived the system and the wretched people who ran it, survived everything life had thrown at her from behind a strict facade as cold as the facts she loved so much. From there she'd gone on to college - where she developed a name for herself, an identity, as a rising genius with intelligence to spare. And it was all through science. Science, science, science. Without it, what was she?

Nothing.

And she was too terrified to see if she was wrong.

_"I'm the gambler."_

But for just an instant, as she walked out of the building into the light evening air, and Booth had stopped, breathed deep, and delivered his first words, she'd felt a fleeting smile grace her lips - for a moment, she hoped, dared, dreamed...

Then fear and apprehension took over as he continued.

_"I believe in giving this a chance. Look, I wanna give this a shot."  
__"You mean us? No, the FBI won't let us work together as a couple - "  
__"Don't do that; that is no reason - "_

And then she lost all feeling entirely as his hands spanned her waist, anchoring him to her as the solid foundation he could crash into. Needed to crash into. And though the collision was abrupt, unforgiving, there was a tenderness behind it that was filled as much with desperation as with something she wanted so badly and had denied herself for so long. She expected her mind to be racing, filled with anxiety and doubt, but her fingertips lightly holding him against her and her eyes relaxed as she breathed him in was like a sedative. The world slowed, everything hushed, and all she could hear was the voice within her whispering, seductively telling her to yes, give in, let go, this is Booth, it will all be all right...

But it wasn't.

Wouldn't be.

Could never be.

Almost with a gasp, she wrenched herself away, mind reeling. Her hands pushed forcefully, but the motions were weak and unplanned, only meant to give her room to breathe and think and wonder what the hell she was doing.

_"No, no!"  
__"Why, why?"_

She was questioning herself both on why she'd just done what she'd done, and like Booth was asking her, _why not? _The first question was unimportant - and like every other time before, when she'd been given a glimpse into that new life, that new hope, she immediately slammed the lid on those thoughts and placed them firmly inside a box, compartmentalizing away - because it was the second question that was important. And it was only important because he was the one that was asking it, he with the brown eyes that stared straight through her. He with the eyes that were currently searching hers recklessly for any sign that she'd agree, that he could save them from the dark path they were slowly spiraling into.

He with the heart that was golden and far more open than hers would ever be.

_"You, you thought you were protecting me, but you're the one who needs protecting."  
__"Protecting, from what?"  
__"From me! I - I don't have your kind of open heart."_

Her voice broke on the last word, and her hands dropped uselessly to her sides, eyes matching the pleading within his own. She was begging him to understand, dreading everything that came from here on out. She'd just told him, for the first time and without saying the words, that she _knew - _of course she knew. Every time has gaze was upon her, she felt it. Every time his hand feel to the small of her back, she knew it was there. In the morning cups of coffee made just the way she liked it, in the midnight Thai food, in the speeches of making love and breaking the laws of physics and in confessions on baby ducks and the horrors of the past, she'd known. And she'd also known why he never said anything. But her contract had been binding as well, and so her lips had remained closed, along with her heart.

_"Just give it a chance; that's all I'm asking."_

But now here he was before her. He'd finally taken that leap, the one that she'd always known would happen. Become that gambler once again. He'd stopped his gambling, she thought, but maybe he'd only found something new to gamble on - her. And now that he was back at it, he was losing in a bet that would cost him his everything. Her eyes begged him to stop, tears welling against her will. She could see an equal desperation in his eyes, but they were at odds - despite the fact that they were fighting for the same something that they both wanted, needed, so terribly: each other. He thought this was the way; to send them off on a reckless adventure into a world they had never dared discover. But she knew, she knew, it would be a catastrophic mistake.

He'd fallen for a woman who could never love the way he did. Their views on the world clashed at nearly every step of the way - he wanted the white picket fence and the family; she wanted Guatemala and the work she loved. He believed in fate and God; she believed in what could be proven and measured in her lab. He liked his damn fruit cooked and she didn't. Scores of other differences separated them, and that distance between them should have been impassable. Insurmountable. But he'd found a way - he'd raced across that broken landscape, chased her the entire way through pain and joy and the entire range of emotion humans are capable of feeling, before arriving at the wall she'd firmly locked herself behind.

But this would be the barrier that, no matter how many bricks he removed, would never fall - because this barrier was made of love.

Out of love. For him.

Behind that wall was her, all of her, everything she kept hidden from the world and everything they already knew. Behind that wall were her deepest secrets, her fears, her hopes, her nightmares, her dreams. Behind that wall were places of darkness and light. Behind that wall were things he should never have to see; that no one should. He was a good man, and she'd told him so - he was warmth and comfort and reassurance and laughter and... and so many things that she was not. Him loving her would be a crime. Someone like him...loving her...she couldn't do that to him. She could not allow him to settle for her, when he deserved so much more. She could not allow this to happen. No matter how badly she craved and desired it, because above all else, what she wanted was his happiness. And when this relationship would inevitably shatter because of all their differences, all those years of baggage building up in the claim, that happiness that seemed to radiate from him would be shattered. Destroyed.

It would make her miserable, for him to be unhappy. Loving him meant she put him before everything, and she'd take one hundred times her misery over his own any day. She couldn't count the number of times he'd been there, gently guiding her in the right direction, helping to figure out what was best for her. Now it was time for her to step up and do the same.

Even if she was the one who ended up shattered and destroyed in the end.

_"No, you said it yourself: the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome."  
"Then let's go for a different outcome here! Alright, let's just hear me out, alright? You know when you talk to older couples, who, you know, have been in love for thirty, or forty, or fifty years, alright, it's always the guy who says, 'I knew.' I knew. Right from the beginning."  
__"Your evidence is anecdotal."  
__"Look, I'm that guy. Bones, I'm that guy, I know."_

Her voice hit the ground running, defying him with something from his own lips. She rushed through what she had to say, forcing it to him as if ordering him to take it, but he quickly pushed it away and forced right back through to her. They'd always butted heads, and now, though the stakes were higher, nothing had changed. She helplessly watched as he bared his soul, and flinched each time his face curled on the words: _Thirty. Forty. Fifty. _His passion poured from every orifice, and was evident on his face, with his motions, and in his eyes. His was begging, _imploring, _her to understand the severity of the situation - as if she didn't already know. His words were making it harder and harder for her to resist. With every mention of a future that was so tantalizingly close, her resolve slipped a little more, and she wavered. She had to rebuff with evidence. Science. Yet again, the only thing she had. And again he came right back for her, and he challenged her to see him. To see the truth.

To see that he was the guy. The man for her. Her soul mate. Her everything. If only she could believe in something that she never had. And if only she could forget the fact that she had to protect him from those beliefs, too. She'd protected herself from them for so long that it should be easy to do the same for him. But it wouldn't be. And she knew that this last blow would take him out, and all the fight would vanish from his eyes. That would be hard for him, she knew. But seeing that, in the man who meant _so much more _than everything to her? Rejecting him when all she wanted was to give in? From the moment she'd told him no, she'd watch the desperation growing on his face, and she knew he'd bet everything on this, like the gambler he was - but the only true way for him to win was for him to lose, and for her to lose him in the process.

She inhaled deeply, preparing for the hardest words she'd ever had to say to someone in her life.

How could she let him know that breaking his heart was the only way to save him?

_"I...I am not a gambler. I'm a scientist. I can't change! I don't know how. I don't know how..."_

Her voice simply trailed off, her repetition fading. It meant nothing. He'd already heard it, and she'd already broken him. He was gasping silently, panicked gaze flitting back and forth across her face. And then it was as if she'd taken everything out of him, and the drop off from that moment was too much. A silent tear made its way carefully down her cheek as she watched him, and knowing full well what she'd done to him she pleaded yet again, this time to bring him back to her. She couldn't stand it, what she'd done - couldn't stand herself.

_"Please, don't look so sad."  
__"Alright, okay... You're right; you're right."_

She didn't want to be right, but it was obvious he wasn't going to refute her. He was done trying. His resolution was hard in his jaw as he stumbled unsteadily backwards before coming to rest against a barrier. Once that couldn't be broken, and was enough to support him, even when she wouldn't. But she was so weak - she needed that support. So she came to rest beside him, but it wasn't enough. And then she saw his face, his half-hearted smile, and she saw home. So why had she turned that down? It was an easy question:

_"Can we still work together?"  
__"...Yeah."  
__"Thank you."_

And that was the answer: because she loved him. She'd never told him that she didn't. But if they were to go further, farther, than they'd ever gone before, into a love that was terrifying and unfamiliar, it would shatter everything. Nothing would be the same. And in work, he'd be her partner, and friend, and nothing could ever dissolve that. It would have been a feeling of relief, but all she felt was loss. And then his final warning came, and he let her know the score.

_"But I gotta move on. You know, I gotta find someone who's, who's gonna love me...in thirty years, or forty, or fifty..."_

Against her will, tears were freely marking paths across her face, and her hands uselessly kept assuaging them, as if the gentle strokes of her hands would soften their impact. Temperance Brennan never cried. But this... it was as if her pain needed somewhere to escape. Anywhere to go but bottled up inside, where it had remained for so long. It felt like yet another betrayal, even when he'd just relented and given her what she asked for. But now he was looking at her, and then away, and she knew he was just as broken as she, if not more. He was protecting himself. They were protecting each other, from each other. So she pulled a deep, shuddering breath, and unable to look at him, she sighed in defeat,

_"I know."_

She sniffed, held her lips together for just a few more moments, keeping it all together as she contemplated silently, numbly, all that had changed. Changed all in one soft spring night, where rain lingered in the air and a man confessed, for the first time, that he loved her.

And then she stood, walking away, at once into what she'd known and something forever altered. But there he was, still following her, as he'd always done. He'd always be with her, no matter what that meant. A crooked smile on her face, a tentative one on his, they started off together. Him, again, by her side. She wondered how he could do that; after what she'd done to him. It sickened her, even though she knew it was for the greater good. But he probably didn't understand, didn't know why, and it had to be killing him inside, not to see. But still he trusted her and loved her, so completely, so implicitly, that for the night he allowed himself to do that. Just one more night.

She needed to apologize. If she were a different kind of woman, she'd have given him everything. 30, 40, 50 years, or an eternity of nights, if he asked. But to save them, she'd taken it away. The least she could give him was this, and it was the least she could give herself. Her head fell heavily against his shoulder, as she collapsed into him. And for that last moment, that last night, their steps were in tandem, and he held her against him with everything he had. It may have been selfishness on both their parts, but they needed it. Needed each other. Just as they always would. And the sleeping city gazed upon the two people, a light in the darkness, who, for one moment, had each other. And even after everything, it was enough.

No matter what they were, they were enough.

* * *

_I'm feel like this end scene was strained; I've never been good at writing conclusions :/ But I hope you found it in your heart to enjoy it anyway, as this brings us to the close of Catalyst. Oh my gosh, I finished a Bones fanfic! This is definitely a milestone :] As for Lone Wolf, that other WIP of mine, I'm hoping to finish that over the summer (I probably said that last summer, but I think this time I mean it :P ). Stay tuned for that, as well as a new project I have coming up called Life in the Fast Lane, a sort of AU story about our favorite undercover pair...  
__  
Until then!_

_'thro :]_


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